The Patron Saint: Starting From the Bottom
by TrtlTot
Summary: Meet Angelica Saintworth, prostitute turned gang-banger. She learned when she was young how to take care of herself, and for the most part, regrets none of the choices she has made in her life. Her past is ugly, but so is damn near getting shot in the face for being in the wrong place. This is her story from the beginning. Rated M for language and lemon scented situations.
1. Character File

**!ATTENTION!**

I do not own anything even remotely familiar to Saints Row.

The only thing I own is Angelica.

I hope the file intrigues you enough to wait for the rest.

Chapter One should be up soon enough.

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**{Angelica Saintsworth}**

**Nickname:** Angel

**Age:** 22

**Height:** 5'4"

**Weight:** 116lbs

**Measurements:** 32D - 24W - 36H

**Race:** Nordic

**Sexual Preference:** Bisexual and Polyamorous

**Favorite Weapon:** Duel Pistols, Brass Knuckles, and Knives

**Likes:** Sex Cherries (most sweet fruit) Pornography Kittens and Puppies (all baby animals) Trap and Bass Music RockRap Music

**Dislikes:** **-**Cops **-**Religion **-**Prudes **-**Judgmental People

**Fears:** **x**Agateophobia (fear of insanity) **x**Becoming like her mother

**Hobbies:** *****Fucking *****Nail Care *****Skin Care *****Hair Care *****Cooking *****Dancing

**Extra Tidbit:** "Angel Saint" is her stage name.

**Secret:** She absolutely no interest in appearing in a pornographic feature.

**Physical Traits:** Bright lavender eyes Waist length, white blonde, wavy hair Sun kissed skin Natural pout, full lips Button nose

**Social Traits:** Angel is know for her commanding presence. When she isn't looking for a quick fix or working, she comes off as a bit bitchy. However, she is very bubbly when around friends. She loves being the center of attention and making others laugh. When looking for sex, she is the master of seduction. On the other hand, if she doesn't like you, you'll know. She is also incredibly protective of those that she cares for or feels close to.

**Loner Traits:** When alone, Angel is actually very quiet. She keeps her home very neat and organized, cleaning up a bit every day. She enjoys her 'me time' immensely and has no problem spending elongated periods of time alone. In fact, there are times where she welcomes it.

**Biography:** Angel may play the part of a princess, but she didn't grow as one. Not even close. No, when she was young, about four years old, her mother tried to kill her. She had just snapped and chased the little girl around with a damn pitchfork. Thankfully, Angels father came home and witnessed the scene. He was able to stop his wife by tackling her. The two struggled for a bit, but he was finally able to soothe the woman. He spent the night watching his wife eye their daughter. He could tell that she would try again. He took Angel away that night and spent years on the run with his daughter, his wife always managing to find them.

In those years, Angel was taught how to fight, not that fancy dojo crap, but the dirty back alley nutshots. Her father taught her how to handle both guns and blades and now she knows how to wield them as though they were extensions of herself. However that strange form of peace was shattered after a while. The years of hunting her husband and daughter had piled on the crazy. So by the time she had found them again... She crept into their apartment and stabbed her husband to death in the kitchen. Angel came home to find her mother sleeping on the kitchen floor in a pool of her fathers blood, spooning his corpse. She felt a piece of crack, like a statue under pressure, and she bashed her mothers head in with a frying pan. She was only sixteen.

Alone and with no where to go, Angel knew she needed a job, or money, really. But who would hire a sixteen year old girl? What would she even do? The only thing she actually did well was fight. That didn't look like a savory idea. Besides that she could drive. But in what car? It had occurred to her that there was one other thing she was good at, or so she had been told. She had given up her virginity at fifteen and in the little over a year since then, she has enjoyed her encounters with others. She loved the way men touched her, but a woman already knew her body and could make it sing. She knew that she still had much to learn in the field, but she figured she could handle it. If she could be what people wanted, they would pay for her, and that's all she cared about back then.

So Angel found herself a pimp. He was more than willing to ignore the fact that she was underage. For a while, things were fine, but then her pimp decided he should get to sample the goods. She disagreed. No cash, no ass. Simple. He persisted and eventually, she shot him in the groin and simply watched him bleed out. She tried to work for two other pimps, but they ended up sharing the first ones fate. Deciding that third times the charm, she became self-employed. At first, people tried to screw her over, but they learned the hard way, that that was unwise. To date, she has garnered a body count of forty-three customers. Now only the stupid try to get over on her.

Angel is not the typical disease ridden whore that most are. No. She gets tested twice a month and believes heavily in the use of condoms. There will be no fleshy cookie nookie without extensive proof that she will remain disease free. Of course, most people are either unwilling or unable to provide such evidence. All-in-all, she is very proud of being able to say she won't start an epidemic doing her job. She thinks of her 'clean streak' as a metaphysical trophy.

Most recently, Angel moved to Stilwater about two years ago after turning twenty. She quickly identified which colors went to which gang and chose to avoid all parties. Yes, at first, she considered selling her services to one crew exclusively, but wanted to keep away from gang violence. It wasn't actually the violence that bothered her, but the likely hood of her getting a scar from something. So she made it a strict rule to not fuck with anyone representing flags. Until now that it.


	2. Angel of the Saints

**Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter up.**

**Life smacked me with the brick that is reality and things got complicated. **

**Hopefully, I will be able to get the next chapter up within a feasible amount of time. **

**Thank you for your patience.**

**Also, thank you for the reviews, favorites, and subscriptions.**

**I really appreciate it :]**

**As always, read and review.**

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Angel was on her knees, the scratchy cardboard shifting beneath her. Her customers hand tangled in her white-blonde locks as his breathing quickened. His free hand clutched at the grimy bricks behind him. Angel knew how to finish quickly. A swirl of tongue and a gentle hum in the back of her throat caused the man to blow his load, effectively filling the condom wrapped securely around his softening phallus. If you know what you're doing, a condom is not an obstacle. The man breathed hard as he handed her the money he owed. She had no worries about preforming first and being paid second. Most of her customers knew she would kill them if they tried to skip out. The ones who didn't know, learned. Ronnie here was a regular. She tucked the wad of cash into her bra and wiped her mouth, dusting her knees as she stood.

Angel noticed a few dudes in yellow staring down a Rollerz wall tag. She could hear them bitching about it before starting to spray paint over it. As luck would have it, a small group of Rollerz approached them. Angel eyed them warily and picked up her pace, heels clicking on the sidewalk. She was about to turn the corner when a red car almost ran her over. She managed to side step the vehicle and then all hell broke loose. Gunshots rang out in all directions and that damn car came barreling towards her, driver dead. She tried to move out of the way again, but tripped over a corpse. The car slammed into the building about ten feet from her in a fiery explosion. The blast radius sent her flying, the air knocked from her lungs as she landed hard on her back. She gasped for air, a searing pain in her chest. That was when one of the surviving Vice Kings spotted her.

"Wrong place, wrong time, bitch," he said, gun pointing at her head.

"Do you want a freebie?!" Angel cried, throwing her hands into the air. The yellow clad thug stared down at her, eyeing her exposed cleavage. His eyes traveled quickly over her hips, noting the straps of her thong peeking over the top of her mini skirt. That lead to him staring at her crotch, seeing as her skirt was splayed high over her thighs. He gave a grin and glanced over his shoulder as he started to undo his pants. Angels eyes widened as a gleeful smile spread over her lips. Quickly, she untucked a stiletto from the hip of her skirt, extended the blade and jabbed it into the mans balls. He groaned, knees bucking. He tried to swing the gun back around to her face, but she slashed at his wrist. The gun fell free and now he was defenseless on his knees. Angel then drove the knife up into his skull under his chin. She couldn't help but smile as she said, "There's no such thing as a freebie, dollface."

"Damn, playa," A black man in purple was walking toward her, another man behind him with a gun drawn. Angel held the blade threatening posture, or as threateningly as she could from the ground. The black man held his hands up innocently, while the red head with the gun turned his back, watching the street. "I'm Julius Little, that's Troy," he said holding his hand out to her. Angel accepted and he hauled her up. "The Row ain't safe no more, honey. We got gangs fightin' over shit that ain't theirs, and you in the way. They don't care if you're representin' or not."

"Julius, this is no time to recruit..." spoke Troy, voice trailing off.

"We need all the help we can get, son. You saw what she did to that sucka." Julius responded.

"No, we need to get our asses outta here," Troy said in a hurry.

"In a minute!" Julius exclaimed.

"Stop," Angel cut in. "I don't rep colors for a reason." She gestured to the carnage around them, a grim expression on her face.

"Exactly," he said. "Look, the Row's got a problem. Come to the church when you wanna be part of the solution." He tossed a glance over his shoulder at the sound of sirens. He gave her another glance, nodding as hr and Troy took off. Angel looked down at her latest victim and knelt beside him. She wiped her knife on his yellow jersey and retracted the blade. She tucked the thin weapon back into her short skirt and made her way back to her car. Angel just wanted to get home and take a nice long bubble bath. She thought it would help the bruises she could feel forming on her back.

[ - SR - ]

Three days had passed since Angel had met Julius and Troy. His words echoed in her head. She had done her best to avoid gangs since becoming a self employed prostitute. If you flew flags or repped colors, you got no nookie from her cookie. Now a man was asking her to join them. Her scantily clad body the other night was an obvious indicator of her profession. Yet...

"Come to the church when you Anna be part of the solution."

She pulled on a pair of tight dark grey skinny jeans and a simple yet cute black bra. She sifted through her closet and eventually pulled on an open collar, too big, light grey t-shirt. It fell off one shoulder and she knew she would be spending the rest of her day fixing it, but she didn't care. She pulled her pale hair up into a messy bun, keeping it off her neck, which was hard considering the length. She then put in her 'Fuck You' earrings and secrued a studded collar around her neck. Why the fuck not? she thought as she slipped a large clawed skull ring over her right middle finger. She then kicked through her numerous shoes and located the perfect pair to go with her 'fuck off' attitude today. Black wedge ankle booties with silver buckles and polished steel tips. The makeup she had on was from last night, but with a few touch ups, she was good. Good money buys good shit.

Seeing as she had nothing better to do, she thought she would go check out the scene at the church. Well that and this turf war was fucking with her work. No one wants a quickie in the alley when they might get shot by a displaces gangster. Angel locked the door to her loft and paced the hall to the elevator. Her building was a nice one, but there were plenty nicer around. The elevator dinged and she stepped out into the poorly lit parking garage. She held her keys in one hand and an unextended stiletto in the other. Her was the nicest thing she owned, and more than once, she has had to stab someone for getting too close.

"Hey, baby, not working today?" The voice belonged to Marcus, a small time pimp who wanted nothing more than to add her to his collection. She gave him a death glare, lavender eyes saying plenty. The man held up his hands and shrugged, muttering as he walked away. Some day she was gonna drive a fork into his eye, rip it out, and feed it to him. Just because she could. Lucky for him, she didn't have a fork on her.

Angels car, her beautiful Vortex, was parked all alone. She hated coming out and finding her pearl white baby surrounded by unworthy vehicles. No tire slashing today. She got in the car and, hating the radio, played a CD instead. The throbbing bass filled her speakers, reverberating along her spine. She put the car in gear and applied the, coming gently off the clutch. The drive to the church was a short one. She saw a line of cars all done up in purple. She saw a Zenith. Nice. A Zircon with a nice body kit. At least it has a kit on it... She noticed a lovely Raycaster. Beautiful. Then her eyes fell upon a goddess. Angel whipped the Vortex into a spot next to a flawless Venom. It had to be the most perfect thing she had ever seen, well, besides her car of course. She got of her car and and stepped up to the Venom. The purple paint job had a glossy finish and gleamed in the early afternoon sunlight. She had to restrain herself from touching it.

Angel looked around, needing to know who owned this beauty. That's when she noticed the purple mob gathered off to the side of the church. She closed the door of her car and wandered over to the group. Julius was giving a short, but surprisingly motivational speech. The crew seemed to respond well.

"Fuck yeah!" exclaimed an Asian with frosted tips. He was wearing shades as he turned to face his purple clad brothers. That's when he saw Angel. "Who the fuck's this bitch?" Angel glared. She had a few choice words forming on her tongue, but they never left her lips.

"Troy and I found her. I wanted to see if she'd ride with us," answered Julius, giving her a questioning look.

"Why not?" spoke Angel with a shrug. She looked good in purple. Fuck, her eyes were purple.

"Julius, if she wants to run with the Saints, she's gotta be canonized," said the Asian. Angel eyed him warily. He was cute, but she didn't like the sound of canonization.

"He's right, Julius. Everyone's done it, she'd be no different," Troy said, cigarette bobbing between his lips. As if on cue, five guys closed in on her. She glowered at the biggest and was thankful for her choice in footwear. The guys started doing some simple stretches. She figured they would try to kill her if she severely injured anyone, so to evade temptation, she pulled the stiletto out of her back pocket and tossed it at the Asian. He caught the momentarily harmless weapon and looked at her like she had lost her mind. She gave him a wink and popped her jaw.

"Hope you're ready for this, playa," Julius said with an almost solemn tone. The guys moved in closer to her.

"Just don't touch my face," Angel replied as she pulled ring off her finger. She hurled the heavy ring into the big mans face and elbowed the one closest to her. She grabbed the wrist of a blonde guy and spun into him, a bit like a dance. Except when her back hit his chest, she kicked her foot up behind her, nailing him in the balls. He went down, wrist pulled free of her grasp. The guy she had elbowed, swung at her, but the hit was wide and she dipped under his arm. She lashed out with a straight hand, palm up, and delivered a successful strike at the pressure point in his arm pit. His arm fell limp to his side and he gave a shriek of pain. Now a guy in a baseball cap moved in on her.

Angel moved to defend herself, but the big ma grabbed her from behind, lifting her off her feet. She struggled against his grip and mister baseball cap took it upon himself to take advantage of her position. Bad idea. She kicked at him, more like flailed really, but managed a solid connection to his chest. The wind was knocked out of him. Gotta love steel toed shoes. A black man with long dreads caught him before he hit the ground. Now he was trying to get at her. The big man crushed her against him and she struggled for breath. She did however, manage to kick the man with dreads square in the chin, slamming his mouth shut with an audible click. He was done. Now for the big man still holding her. He had her arms pinned to her side, so no nails in flesh. Yet. She slammed her heel into his knee and he dropped her to clutch ay his pain at his pain. She jumped on to his back and and reached around to grab his throat, nails biting into his skin. The other hand gripped his shoulder, fingers digging into a pressure point.

"Give up," she hissed in his ear. He nodded, a rapid head movement if there ever was one. She glanced at the other men as she hopped off the big man. A few were still writhing on the ground while others stood clear of her. The injuries were small, but effective, definitely enough to make them think twice.

"I'll be damned. You earned your colors today, kid," Troy clapped a congratulatory hand on her shoulder. She gave a smile, thinking of how proud her dad would be of her coming out predominantly unscathed.

"That's some impressive shit," this from a black guy with a purple bandana. He handed her her ring and kept talking. "The only other Saint who kicked ass like that was Johnny."

"Shit, took me half the time," the Asian, Johnny, smirked as he handed her the knife she tossed him earlier.

"Welcome to the 3rd Street Saints," Julius gave her daps and went straight into another mini speech. He was right. The Saints need to step up and show the contenders that this city already had a master. She slid the knife back into her pants. She looked back at the crowd. Each if them wore some shade of purple. As she looked over the crowd, she realized that she was the only female. What a sausage fest, she thought with a slight frown. Julius seemed to have finished his speech and the group started to disperse. Angel approached him, knowing that a few things needed to be made known.

"We need to talk, boss," she started. Julius looked at her expectantly. Troy, Johnny, and the black guy stepped up around the two. She looked at them briefly, guessing that they each had a high rank in the gang. "I'm a whore." Troy started coughing while Johnny just kind of laughed. The black guy looked her over appreciatively.

"Your attire that night said as much," Julius responded, not missing a beat. Angel nodded, her assumptions being proved right. "Look, when you go to talk to your pimp, take Johnny with you, he'll take care of him."

"There's no need for that," Angel said simply.

"Hey, I can be pretty persuasive," Johnny smirked. Angel rolled her eyes at him. She then realized that one of her sleeves was down and had been for a while. She adjusted it without much thought.

"That's not it," she started. "I don't have a pimp or a madam. I'm self employed." Each of them had a semi-surprised look on his face. "Look. You saw what I did to that Vice King. I can take care of myself."

"I would say," Julius nodded.

"Hey, what's your name, baby girl?" This from the black man.

"Angelica Saintsworth. A mouthful I know. Call me Angel." she responded with practiced ease. She hated her name, but she liked the available nicknames. "My stage name is Angel Saint."

"Stage name?" he questioned, curiosity obviously peaked.

"I dance on occasion. So, what's your name?" she asked.

"Oh, I'm Dex." Dex. Now she had a name for everyone.

Angel looked at her knew family members. That's what they were now, family. Granted, a family she didn't quite know or trust very well, but family. Considering her actual family, this was a major improvement. Her parents were dead, murdered. She didn't actually know if she had any other blood relatives, but could she find it in herself to care? No. No she couldn't. Besides, her father had kept her from them for a reason if they did exist. Angel trusted his judgment a lot more than her own, but a dead man was a dead man. No changing that. No, now she had new people to rely on, but again, that would take time. How much? I'm willing to find out.

Angel looked at Dex. Dark brown eyes. Rich caramel skin. A shame his clothes were so baggy. There was no telling what he was hiding under there. One thing was for sure, boy like his denim. She could guess at his physique if she really wanted to. A young man. Part of a gang. Watch him be pudgy. She kept a smile of her face.

Angel wasn't too interested in Julius. He was the boss. If anything, he would have more of a chance as a father figure. He seemed earnest about his desire to clean up the Row, but was a gang of possible psychopaths really the way? He recruited her after watching her murder a man from her knees. He even knew she was a whore on top of that. If not psychopaths, then definitely a posse of degenerates. This is going to be interesting to say the least. If he could control everyone that is. She was starting to get hungry.

Her gaze shifted to Troy. He took in a long drag of his cigarette. He seemed slender under the long shirt and loose jeans. He had an air of control about him. Too much control. It seemed to her like he was fighting something. He just didn't feel right... Or perhaps he was nervous around women? Or recovering from some sort of drug related thing or whatnot? She couldn't place it, but she trust Troy. There was just... Something wasn't right with him. Angel managed to keep her distrust off her face as she looked away from him.

And so Angel found herself staring at Johnny. There was no question that he was a sculpture under his clothing. His white undershirt clung to his body in a delicious manner. Angel found herself wanting him chained to a bed, completely naked, his body hers to explore. She was beyond happy that he didn't have a butter face. Oh no. He was a perfect specimen of male. Shame he was Asian. They usually have tiny cocks... She let her eyes drift down to his groin and willed herself to have X-ray vision. No luck. Though she did admire the way he carried himself. His stance sang of confidence and power. It wasn't the usual cockiness she was used to either. This man could kill her if he wanted to, whereas she thought she might stand a chance against the others. Being in such close proximity to him, knowing her golden rule, was a minute form of torture. She had a sudden craving for a strong pair of hands around her throat.

"So will my being a whore cause a problem?" Angel asked, clearing her throat. Even though staring at her new family had felt like an eternity, there was no wasted time. No breath spent unnecessarily. Amazing what kind of thoughts can form in the space of a blink. Her stomach growled at her, demanding that she feed it. She placed a delicate hand over her abdomen, but that was all the acknowledgement she paid to the angry organ.

"I'm not entirely sure how the rest of the crew would deal with that kind of information," he answered after thinking on it for a bit. She watched as a curious, if not wary, look passed between the men. Julius seemed generally unsure of the possible situations, while Troy looked rather uncomfortable with the whole idea. Des on the other hand looked like he wanted to hand her his wallet, which she honestly expected. Johnny stood apart. He appeared to be completely indifferent about the circumstance. How curious. This Johnny boy here was peaking her interest all over the place.

"Look. I don't do anyone flying flags. To add, if you don't pay or I don't want you, you don't get any," Angel was very serious. That first part was a rule she did not break easy. A rule that had probably played a part in keeping her alive these past two years. She looked at each of them and gave an aggravated huff. "I have a decent amount of funds saved up... I can stop if it really bothers you. Or at the very least I can slow down some." She was hoping they wouldn't ask her to stop, she had an entire line up of shoes she wanted in the near future.

"Why a whore?" chimed Troy.

"Excuse me?" Angel arched a well groomed brow at him.

"Why did you decide to be a whore?" he repeated. This seemed to be a question of interest to everyone but Johnny.

"Why not?" she answered. "I love sex and I love money. Why shouldn't I be paid for having a good time and enjoying myself?" This was apparently not the expected answer. While Troy, Dex, and Julius had a look of surprise, Johnny looked to be in agreement with her. Troy looked like he had a series of questions that he was about to burst with. Angel could almost see the thoughts race behind his eyes. Wonder what his next question will be? Slight irritation formed across her brows. She wanted her question answered. She had asked only one and it had yet to be answered. And here she was responding to all of theirs.

"Where did you learn to fight?" Oh look, another question from Troy. There had to be something wrong with him. He was... different. She closed her eyes against the feeling.

"I think that's enough sharing for one day," Angel breathed, starting to feel her muscles ache from being squeezed so hard during her canonization. Add that to the hard landing three days ago... She hurt. She rolled her shoulders, feeling a pull. "I need an ice pack... and a drink. You gonna answer my question, Julius?"

"Just cut back for now, playa. You should start seeing money from gang activities soon enough," he finally answered. It was a good answered, too. She smiled, pretty and honest, not a work smile at all.

"Awesome," she said, smile making her look way too innocent. Angel pulled her phone from her pocket and checked the time. She needed to get home and shower so she could get ready for a workout. Though most would consider this 'workout' a means of getting through college. That's not why she danced. She danced because it was good cardio. "Hey, I gotta go. You can fin me at Tee 'N' Ay if you need me."

She departed with a wink.

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**Thanks for reading.**

**Hope you enjoyed it.**

**:3**


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